


Ache

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amnesia, Intimacy, M/M, Pining, Post-Game(s), Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-11-01 01:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: In the aftermath of his final reveal, Solas loses his memory.At Skyhold, Dorian visits with the now-prisoner.





	Ache

Dorian moved very slowly into the room. It was at the top of the mages’ tower of Skyhold, because Lavellan had been vehement that Solas wasn’t to be placed in the cells, and in comparison to Solas’ office at the base of the library, it felt so... bare. The wood-panelled walls were bare of decoration, the room without books, and while there blankets piled beside the bed, they didn’t look, for the most part, as if they’d been unfolded and used.

Solas was sitting in the window, a knitted blanket of Dalish design around his shoulders, his knees drawn up toward his chest. Between his graceful palms was a steaming mug of tea, and he didn’t turn around to look at Dorian as he entered, his gaze on Skyhold down below.

“Solas,” Dorian said quietly, and the elf turned his head to look at him. There was no recognition in his eyes, but Dorian could see the way he _searched_ Dorian’s body, taking him in, looking for some sort of clue, something...

“Altus Pavus,” Solas said quietly.

“You don’t remember me,” Dorian said.

“No,” Solas said. “My apologies.”

It had been the Anchor. Solas had tried to take it back from Lavellan, Lavellan had said, but it had backfired, somehow, there’d been an explosion of green... He’d carried Solas out of the Fade, and Solas had been unconscious for some days, before he’d woke, and recalled almost nothing.

Leliana didn’t believe it, Dorian didn’t think. But the mages had confirmed that there was something missing in his head, consistent with magical injury, and no guarantee those memories would return.

“They brought me this tea,” Solas said. “Apparently I drink it often.”

“Yes,” Dorian said, feeling himself smile, although he didn’t feel like smiling at all. “You hate it.”

“I do,” Solas agreed, and he set it aside. Dorian moved forward, sitting in the chair beside the window, and Solas looked at him for a long, serious moment. He leaned forward, and he touched Dorian’s cheek, to Dorian’s surprise, making Dorian inhale, staring up at him. “You and I...?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, and Dorian’s head spun.

“No,” Dorian said. 

“But you wished for it?” Solas asked, his voice serious, his gaze a glittering green-blue that made Dorian ache for the crystalline seas outside Tevinter, and he stroked Dorian’s jaw, his fingers _warm_... “Or I did?” 

There was a desperation in Solas’ expression Dorian had never seen before, a _yearning_ \- for understanding, for recollection, for comprehension? It was impossible to say, but it ached to see Solas like this, even knowing all that he’d done, all that he’d _wished_ to do... 

“Don’t you remember anything?” Dorian asked, touching the back of his hand, brushing Solas’ knuckles. _Had_ Solas wanted him, before? He’d always brushed Dorian gently off, when Dorian had tried to draw closer, always been firm but not unkind about it, and Dorian had thought it was disinterest, but... But if it wasn’t? What then?

“I remember this place,” Solas said softly. “Tarasyl’an Te’las... I built it. I recall not why, but the stones, they speak to me of a time past. This was home to me, once, and to those I called my friends.” 

“That was a long time ago,” Dorian murmured.

“So I am informed.”

Dorian let go when Solas moved to take his hand away from Dorian’s face, but Solas, to his surprise, caught hold of his hand, squeezing it. His face was so open, it seemed to Dorian: quietly caring, full of quiet pain. There had always been a pain in Solas, a sort of melancholy, but now...

“You need not sit with me,” Solas said. “The Nightingale informs me that I am a prisoner, but she will not tell me my crimes - I would presume they were great, and truly awful in their nature, by her reaction alone. I doubt you find comfort in being here.”

“Perhaps not,” Dorian said, “but everyone else in the fortress is abominable at chess. Even with your memories missing, Solas, I cannot imagine a better opponent.”

“That is kind,” Solas said softly. “And yet I see you have brought no board.”

“No,” Dorian said, smiling. “Pawn to e4.”

“Ah,” Solas said, and when he smiled, it made Dorian feel like he would explode. He hadn’t ever seen Solas smile so brightly, so widely, with such genuine _warmth_ \- perhaps with Lavellan, but never with Dorian, not ever. Solas’ fingers were still wrapped gently about Dorian’s hand. “_Yes_.”

The ache in Dorian’s chest was insurmountable. He would have to return to Tevinter, soon, but for now, for now... Solas smiled, and Dorian let himself commit it quickly to memory. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq). I also run a no-drama Dragon Age Discord, which [you can join here.](https://discordapp.com/invite/ttgP5v8) Please comment if you can!


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